away, letting her hair fall to her shoulders “and for Mara’s wound, I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.”
Morgan hooked her arm around Mara’s elbow and pulled her to the edge of the cliff. “Stand here,” she ordered.
Mara bent her knees, wobbling in place and hugging herself as she kept her eyes on Acacia.
In the same way, Morgan walked Acacia to the edge, then, keeping hold of her arm, she glared at Mara. “Your friend was ready to take whatever punishment you deserved. Do you think that’s a noble gesture?”
Mara couldn’t answer. She trembled harder and began crying.
“I’ll show you how noble it is. Watch and learn.” Morgan released her grip on Acacia and shoved her with both hands, sending her over the ledge.
Acacia plummeted toward the river of fire, her arms flailing and her cries piercing Mara’s ears. “Maraaaaa!”
Her body splashed in the magma, silencing her forever. Mara fell to her knees and sobbed, coughing, heaving, until she collapsed and fainted.
“Acacia!” Mara yelled, sitting up in bed. She bumped her head on the stone that covered her dugout.
“Mara?” Paili called out. “You okay?”
Mara rubbed her scalp. “I’m all right. Go back to sleep.” She slid out of bed, but as she tiptoed for the dugout opening, a scratching noise arose from the wall somewhere behind her. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she faced the direction of the sound and stared into the darkness, listening intently.
Scritch, scritch.
Mara inched closer. Could it be Qatan? She had never seen the little scavenger, but the bread she saved for him always disappeared. And now, even if she could stay quiet enough not to spook him, it was too dark to catch a glimpse of either whisker or tail.
A wisp of light passed by the inside of the hole, fast and fleeting. Lowering herself to hands and knees, Mara scooted quietly toward the base of the wall. She held her breath and imagined the layout of the caverns in her mind’s eye, but when she tried to draw the room just beyond her hovel, she couldn’t think of what might be there. She had always assumed it was an unused cave, the kind of place Qatan might want for his home.
The light came again, and this time it stayed, illuminating the hole in the wall.
Scritch, scritch.
A pair of fingers poked out, reaching, probing. Finally, an entire hand emerged, and the index finger swept Mara’s bread morsel into its grip. As the hand slowly pulled back, Mara lunged forward. “Wait!”
The hand stopped for a second, then slid back farther.
“Wait!” Mara repeated. “Who are you?”
The hand disappeared. Mara pounded her fist on the wall. “Who’s there?”
A muffled male voice replied. “My name is Elam.”
“Elam?” Mara laid her cheek on the floor and spoke directly into the hole. “My name’s Mara. Are you one of the brick-making boys?”
“I am a brick maker,” came the reply. “But I am the only one.”
“I heard there were at least two. What happened to the other boy?”
His reply seeped through like a quiet breeze. “We don’t need as many bricks as before, so she terminated him.”
“She? Do you mean Morgan?”
“Yes. She told Nabal to beat him with his whip until he died, and they made me watch.”
“How awful!”
“I still hear his screams in my nightmares.”
Mara sighed. “I know what you mean.” The image of Acacia flailing toward the molten river flickered through her mind again. She shook her head to expel the unwanted memories. “How did you learn to speak so well? Most of the girl laborers can hardly speak at all.”
“I could talk pretty well when they brought me here, but ”
“Brought you? Aren’t you an underborn?”
“No. I was taken from my parents when I was little and made a slave here, but I learned how to talk better by listening to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. I listen to the stories you tell Paili.”
A strange tickle fluttered in Mara’s stomach, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “You do?”
“Not every night, and I never said anything, because I didn’t want you to get in trouble, but it seemed safe enough to sit and listen.” He paused for a moment. “I like to hear about dragons flying through the sky.”
“Me . . .” Mara swallowed hard. “Me too.”
Her heart pounded through another pause. Finally, Elam continued, his voice lower and faltering. “I’d . . . I’d like to see the sky again . . . someday.”